


jekyll and hyde

by diminishedmercury



Series: Snapshots from The Battlegrounds [2]
Category: SMITE (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Bruises, Dry Sex, M/M, Master/Pet, Painful Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, but it's all Consensual children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 04:08:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19760275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diminishedmercury/pseuds/diminishedmercury
Summary: There were times that Cú Chulainn just needed to get his teeth knocked around and his ass beat. With all of the anger stored in his body, he needed an outlet- and sometimes, he wasn’t keen on channeling that pent up rage into violence done unto another person. Sometimes, he just wanted to feel pain and absorb it into his body to let it simmer into a boiling serenity. Luckily enough for him, he had a God of War more than willing to fulfill that task.OR: Godslayer Ares fucks Cú Chulainn stupid.





	jekyll and hyde

**Author's Note:**

> take my entirely self-indulgent smut, there is no reason for this to exist but now it does lmao
> 
> add me on smite/xbox and we can play!  
> gamertag: Twunk of Ulster

There were times that Cú Chulainn just needed to get his teeth knocked around and his ass beat. With all of the anger stored in his body, he needed an outlet- and sometimes, he wasn’t keen on channeling that pent up rage into violence done unto another person. Sometimes, he just wanted to feel pain and absorb it into his body to let it simmer into a boiling serenity. Luckily enough for him, he had a God of War more than willing to fulfill that task. One that reveled in the destruction and carnage of living things.

He’s thrown roughly against a wall, a hand shoved against the back of his head and pressing his cheek into the rough material and another twisting one of his arms painfully behind his back. A low growl reverberates through his chest as his instincts scream at him to struggle, but a sharp yank on his arm upwards has him backing down quickly- it’s a reminder that he’s meant to be submitting here. That he’s willingly giving over his control to the man crowding him up against a corner. “Submit,” There’s power in that voice and a shiver runs down Cú Chulainn’s spine hearing the blend of two voices- this is a Godslayer and it’s a chilling reminder of it. He’s half God, half Devil at this point and the rush of adrenaline running up his spine at the thought has his body tingling in anticipation.

He hears the clanging of armor falling to the floor when his head is released and he can turn around just enough to watch the white falling away to reveal what’s left of the man in Ares. He tenses up again when the hand holding his arm in place relinquish its hold and move to his front. Hands are on his chest, his abdomen, his thighs. He lets his forehead fall to rest against the hard wall and breathes out a tense breath as the groping continues, slowly relaxing into it, slowly falling into a submissive place in his mind. It always takes him a while to get into subspace and Ares is more than aware of that. He takes his time pulling him further and further down, running his hands over corded muscle and tattooed skin and peeling away the layers that cover him from burning blue eyes.

“I told you to _submit_.” It’s an order accompanied by a painful grip on his upper thigh (Cú Chulainn desperately hopes it will leave a bruise behind). It’s enough to shove him the rest of the way down into subspace and he feels the rest of his tensed muscles uncoil from their desire to fight. He just wants to be used. Just wants to sit back and _take_ what is given to him and nothing more. There’s a gentler hand in his hair now, petting and ruining the braids that hold it in place and then there is suddenly a sharp yank backwards that pulls his neck into an awkward angle and lets copper meet blue. He whimpers when he sees the dangerous grin on that beautiful face. It’s exactly what he’s wanted to see all night. “There you are,” Ares breathes into the thick air around them. It’s suddenly turning hot, hot, hot and he’s burning up inside and out. If he let it happen, Ares could destroy him (and the thought sounds all too appealing at the moment).

He’s naked and on his knees now and he’s not sure how he got here. He vaguely registers that sinister shield standing propped against a wall on the other side of the room and he can vaguely hear it mocking him, calling him a trained dog. “Stop listening to _him_ and listen to _me_.” He blinks as his hair is pulled again, staring up into an angry face and he lets out a shocked sort of sound when he feels the back of a hand make contact with his cheek. He doesn’t look at the shield again. “Better… now open that pretty mouth.” Another order that he can’t refuse. His eyes fall closed at the same moment his mouth does and then it’s being filled with long, thick fingers. They’re pushed back as far as they’ll go before he begins to choke and he’s forced to open his eyes and stare into pools of blazing water as spit forces its way out of the sides of his full mouth. “Very good,” Ares purrs above him, pushing his fingers in and out in a slow rhythm, watching the half-mortal’s throat bounce in an attempt to make room for them. His tongue runs over them while he does it, slipping in between the invading fingers and licking at the pads. He’s been trained well. He’s content to stay here forever, choking on nothing more than a pair of fingers, if Ares willed it so.

He almost lets out a whine when his mouth is left empty on the last push in and out, but he controls himself lest he be punished. Cold eyes stare down at him. “The Hound of Ulster, hm? I only see a common house dog before me.” The words sting in the best way and he feels his cock stir between his thighs. A hand roughly grips his chin and pulls his neck into another odd angle to stare straight up at the Godslayer as he speaks. “A pet and nothing more- isn’t that right?” He feels a thumb pet his cheek where a burning bruise is already starting to purple from the earlier slap. “And I’ll bet that my little pet is ready to be fed, isn’t he?” He wants to nod or make any sort of confirmation, but he can’t. He hasn’t been told he can speak. The grip tightens and he already knows there will be finger shaped bruises on both sides of his face in the morning.

There’s not much more waiting after that and he soon finds his throat filled with Ares’ cock. He’s gagging and choking, a hand on the back of his head holding his nose flat against coarse hair and he can’t help but to moan at the rough treatment. It’s messy in all the ways he loves and his vision starts to tease black at the corners before Ares relents and lets him have a breath of air. He pants harshly, gasping in a lungful of sweet oxygen, before Ares is shoving straight back in and pulling on his hair to hold him in place again. The grip tightens and then he’s being pulled back and forth, wet gags filling the quiet room. He wants to place his hands on the man’s hips to steady himself, but he knows he hasn’t been given permission yet. He fights to stay balanced like this, his mouth being used like a cheap whore’s, but he is a loyal pet and he will do anything to ensure that his master is pleased. He cannot break Ares’ will even if he desired it. In and out, in and out. He feels his eyes prick with tears at the corners on a particularly hard thrust in, sweet pain blooming hot in his chest. He squirms as his cock swells with more blood, wanting release but knowing he can’t have it- not yet. Ares would have his fill of pleasure before he’s allowed to take any. He can’t keep track of time like this. He doesn’t really care either. It could have been only a few minutes or a few hours of sitting there and letting this God fuck his throat raw and Cú Chulainn would have been happy with it. He’s being pushed back forward again, held in place by strong hands, and hot liquid is spilling straight down his spasming throat and into his belly. He swallows as much down as he can greedily, desperate for more. What he can’t swallow pushes out of the sides of his mouth and down his maw.

He gasps again when his head is yanked backwards, staring up into cold, cold eyes. He’s already blissed out on the submissive high he’s riding, mouth agape with semen on his tongue, glassy eyes, and tear tracks staining his face. Saliva and cum covers his chin and cheeks from the rough treatment. “Ah, so pretty,” He’s not sure if that is Ares or the Shield talking, their voices bleeding together, but he shivers at the praise as he drinks down what’s left on his tongue, nonetheless. “What do you want, pet?” He nearly falls for the trick. He still hasn’t been told he can speak. A glint enters the Godslayer’s eyes. “I see that you’re in the mood to obey tonight. Speak quickly.”

“More,” He pants and earns himself a slap across his unmarked check.

“Speak _plainly_. You know I don’t like vague answers.”

“I-“ He has to swallow, voice still hoarse from their previous activity, “-want to please you.” The hand gripping his hair turns gentle at the words, petting rather than pulling. It’s a cycle they always fall into and Cú Chulainn finds himself craving the gentleness as much as he craves the violence.

“Very well, then.”

He finds himself dragged up from the floor by a strong hand on his bicep and shoved face down onto the bed in the corner of the room. He’d almost forgotten where they were really- he may have to apologize to Aphrodite next door tomorrow. Thoughts of disturbing the neighboring Gods and Goddesses quickly leave his mind as he’s man handled into whatever position it is Ares wants to see him in. His face is pressed down into soft furs and his ass pulled high into the air, legs spread wide. A hand trails down from his neck to the side of his thigh; he relaxes further into the touch. A moment later and he feels the sting of a hand crashing down onto the side of his ass. It blooms a beautiful sort of pain and he has to will himself to sit still and take what he is given rather than beg for more. The first swat isn’t nearly as hard as he wants it to be- he wants to see black and blue, wants to feel the throbbing burn of it when Ares finally slams his hips against his backside. It’s not enough, not enough, not enough and he’s left suspended in a desperate sort of silence. He can’t take more than he is given and he can’t beg for more than he is given; he’s learned that lesson many nights passed.

He’s forced to take the fur into his mouth and bite down when Ares finally relents and hits him as hard as he wants it. The sting is good; it has his eyes rolling back and his thighs trembling uncontrollably. He hears what sounds like the sound of metal being shifted from the floor and then he feels the cool swat of metal across his beaten backside. He moans out in bliss when his mind supplies him with the answer to the new sensation- Ares put on his gauntlets for this. He spreads his legs further to steady himself as he feels his own saliva wet the soft material underneath his chin. Harsh pants and grunts are pulled from under his breast with each strike, each one hurting just that much more with each catch of the ridges on the metal glove. He feels warmth run across his skin after who knows how long spent in that position. “Look at how well you take it- you bleed and make no fuss,” his master is practically purring in delight and then he feels a hot tongue lick up the blood he’d just spilled. He can’t hold still and bucks his hips downwards, searching for friction. He’s painfully hard and has been for a while now.

“Are you ready?” He hears metal fall to the ground again and feels a naked hand grip one of side of his hips. “Ready to cry, pet?” He nods frantically and then he’s being flipped onto his back, actually letting out a yell from the pain of his ass. It’s a sharp, pleasure-pain contrast- the cool fur against his blazing skin. Somewhere in the distance, he hears a voice whisper about how good power felt, but he’s too delirious to give it any recognition. Ares is chuckling above him, licking his lips and dragging blunt nails down his chest. “Pretty.”

He loses himself again in the next moment when Ares pushes into him raw and with no preparation or warning. It’s a stretch and his eyes are welling once again with tears. He can’t even hear his own voice over the pain in his ass, but it doesn’t matter because pain only translates to pleasure in his sex-drunk mind. He vaguely registers that there are teeth on his neck, biting and sucking and drawing blood. All he can do is wrap his legs around strong hips and press his heels into Ares’ buttocks to press him deeper, closer, harder. He feels a sharp tug to his nipple and gasps for what felt like the thousandth time of the night, bucking his hips up into a strong set of abs. His cock is flushed an angry red and trapped between his own stomach and that of the man currently destroying his body.

“You belong to _me_ ,” He hears his master hiss into his ear.

“You,” He agrees immediately. It’s instinct. It’s natural. It’s an undeniable fact that Cú Chulainn is pleased with. His mouth is filled with a scorching tongue soon after and it’s all he can do to will away the desire to cum. He kisses back deep and sloppy and wet and it’s _good_ that all the pain radiating in his bones is melted away. He must be bleeding by now, though, for the slide in and out of his body has gotten easier and he can hear the tell-tale ‘squelch’ from down below. The room is silent save for the obscene sounds of their fucking (Cú Chulainn is hesitant to call it love-making, even if he holds nothing but affection for the God). Harsh pants and loud moans and low growls. The sticky sound of their sweaty skin sticking together and pulling apart again. The smack of Ares’ thighs against Cú Chulainn’s ass.

He knows that Ares is close when he feels a hand wrap around his throat and _squeeze_. He chokes as his eyes roll back. It’s good, _it’s good, **it’s good**_ **.** He needs to cum, but he needs Ares to cum first- he won’t be satisfied if Ares isn’t completely satisfied with what he’s taken from him. The grip around his neck tightens and releases with each thrust in and out of his hole before finally the grip doesn’t relent and the gush of warmth inside of him signals the beginning of the end of their night. “Cum for me, pet,” He hears that blended voice purr as he releases his throat. His vision turns white and his body snaps into an arch as he spills across their chests and stomachs.

He’s not sure how long he’s been out of it when he comes to again. He feels bandages being wrapped around his shoulder where a particularly nasty looking bite mark oozes blood from it. “Thanks,” He manages to croak through the sandstorm raging in his throat. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror- it looks like he’d been in a fight with an angry pack of jackals.

Ares only lets out a hum to acknowledge that he’s awake again. Aftercare was always quiet. Cú Chulainn liked it that way- it let him simmer down fully and come back into his own mind. He needed the quiet to find himself again. There’s gentle petting in his hair and then he’s being pulled up and over, his head placed on a pillow. “Rest,” another command. Cú Chulainn obeys it.

* * *

“Why do you look like you got into a fight with a fucking _bear?_ ” Bellona practically screams the next day when he returns to his own quarters and his own friends the next day. Aphrodite, with dark bags under her eyes, stares at him in disdain. She knows.

“It wasn’t a bear, Bell,” Aphro scoffs in a haughty tone, throwing her blonde hair over one shoulder. “He played with fire and he got burned. Hmph.” He doesn’t know what to say to that and he’s afraid that his voice will give himself away to Bellona- Gods bless the poor virginal Goddess. She may try and murder Ares if she found out that he was the cause of this (not that she doesn’t already try).

Artio, serene as ever, pipes in. “How is Ares, Cú?”

He coughs, cheeks turning a bright shade of red as Aphrodite bursts out into a fit of cackling. It’s horrible. “He’s-“ His voice cracks “-He’s fine.”

“Hm.” Her voice is pensive. “Looks like he was too excited last night.”

“He… He was.”

“What the fuck am I missing here?” Bellona practically demands, arms crossed and lips fixed into a firm scowl.

“Oh, the fuck indeed,” Aphrodite purrs. It seems that she has forgiven him for keeping her up all night through payment in the form of his misery. “Invite me next time or I’ll kill both of you in your sleep.”

Cú Chulainn decides that he wouldn’t mind if Hera struck him down with Argus in that exact moment.


End file.
